Did You See that Shooting Star Tonight?
by aaaaaaaaaa-sa-a
Summary: Six times Percy and Annabeth bonded over Star Wars. AU. Percabeth. Fluff. Written for Star Wars Day. Low T. Probably doesn't even need to be T.


**AN: May the fourth be with you. ;)**

 **I.**

Annabeth's kindergarten has great toys.

That's about the only upside to it. The schooling offers no stimulation for Annabeth's intelligent brain, all of her fellow classmates are immature, and the teacher smells bad.

But at least the toys are cool.

There's tricycles and firetrucks, dolls and stuffed animals, paints and blocks.

Even though Annabeth sure does love her blocks, she loves the lightsabers more. The hilts look exactly like the movie, and the actual light parts glow. _Glow_. That's, like, the best thing _ever_. (She's a five-year-old in the late nineties; of course glowing lightsabers are the best.) What's even better is that _no one_ seems to know about them, except for Annabeth.

There's only two, and she always waits until everyone grabs their toys and clears out of the toy-bin area. Once everyone's gone, she carefully slips in, quiet as a jedi, and grabs them. She places them under her shirt, in case anyone is looking, and runs off to her corner. Her corner's perfect; it's hidden behind a tree, out of sight, but if Teacher calls the class in, she can easily hear her.

This day is no different. She slips the red and blue lightsabers under her shirt and heads over to her corner so that she can play with them.

But, on her way, she spots a boy in her class– _Percy_ , she remembers–sitting on the bench by himself. He looks lonely, kind of like how her Great Dane looks lonely whenever she leaves for school in the morning.

She walks up to him, but he doesn't seem to notice her. Cocking her head to the side, she asks him bluntly, "Are you lonely?"

His sea-green eyes snap up to her grey ones. "Wh-what?"

"I said, are you lonely?" she repeats slowly, wondering if he's dumb.

He looks down, shaggy black hair hiding his face from her. "Yeah."

"I'm lonely, too," she admits, and she is. Her mommy and daddy always seem to be away working, and none of the kids at school talk to her. "Do you…We can be friends, right?"

"Really?" he says, a little breathlessly, looking up at her.

She shrugs. "I'll be your friend if you be mine."

"Yeah! I'm friends with Annabeth Chase!" he shouts, jumping up to his feet with a wide grin that she can't help but copy. She's taller than him by quite a bit, and she's _way_ tanner.

"Great!" she says, copying his enthusiasm. She leans in close, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Since we're friends, I'll allow you to see my secret place."

"Your secret place?" he asks, looking at her like she's the coolest thing since Dexter's Laboratory.

"My _super_ -secret place with my _super_ -secret toys of awesome," she stresses. "So you can't tell anybody." He nods, staring at her with wide, earnest eyes. She holds up her hand. "Pinky promise?"

His pinky wraps around hers, they shake, and then they let go. Annabeth nods her head once. "You're ready. C'mon."

Then, she turns on her heel and sprints off to her corner. Percy follows closely behind. She stops after she rounds the tree, and he nearly slams into her.

"This is my super-secret place, and _these_ " –she spreads her arms so that he can see the lightsaber hilts clutched in either of her hands– "are my super-secret toys of awesome."

"Woah." He marvels at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

She presses the buttons, and the actual saber parts fall out. "Here," she says, handing him the red one.

Sticking out his bottom slightly, he shuffles on his feet and looks down. "But…Um…Blue's my favorite color."

A frown tugs at her lips. Blue's her favorite color, too.

"I also don't like being bad," he whispers, and she can tell he's being sincere. Percy doesn't seem like the bad guy type.

"Fine," she sighs, handing the blue ligthsaber over. He beams at her, wrapping his hands around the hilt thankfully. She holds onto her red one. "I'll be the bad guy."

"Great!" he chirps.

They get into their battle positions, and then they charge at each other.

;

 **II.**

It's kind of hard putting on a spandex suit by yourself, especially for a seven-year-old.

But Annabeth gets it on, tugging on the boots and snapping the cape into place. She tucks her plastic helmet under her arm and grabs her bag before running out the door and heading down the street.

All the houses are decorated in ghosts and goblins, webs and tombstones. The people are the same way. They're wearing all different types of costumes.

Annabeth sprints past them all, her sights set on the house on the edge of the street. She skids to a stop, turning on her heel, and runs up to the door of the house. Paper ghosts hang in the trees and a fake skeleton sits by the door.

Thankfully, there are no spiders.

Standing on her tip-toes, she knocks as hard as she can on the door.

"Oh, hello there, Annabeth!" greets the person who opens it.

She beams. "Hi, Missus Jackson! I'm ready to go Trick-or-Treating!"

Sally fixes the witch's hat that sits on her head. It matches that rest of her purple outfit, including the broom clutched in her hand. "Come in, dear; Percy will only be a moment. He's just finishing up his costume." She nods and steps in.

The Jackson house is nice and homey, unlike her own. There's blankets thrown about the couch, and the chairs at the table aren't all pushed in; clear signs that people actually live in this building.

"I love your costume, dear," Sally says.

"Isn't it great?" Annabeth asks, turning around to give her a full view. "Daddy bought it for me, and I spent _hours_ making sure it was just right."

Two-year-old Tyson waddles up to her, all dressed up as a cute little witch's kitty, and grabs onto her cape. "Annie-bet!" he crows, tugging on the black garment to get her attention.

She crouches down and pets his messy brown locks. "Hey there, baby boy!" she coos, remembering the first time she'd met Tyson. It was a week after Percy and Annabeth became best friends, and Tyson had been about three months old, just a tiny little thing. She can't believe how much he's grown.

"I'm ready!" comes Percy's voice. Annabeth stands up just in time to see him, all covered in brown fur and a weapon sling around his shoulder, jump out into the room proudly. She runs right up to him.

"You're Chewbacca!" she exclaims, circling him so she can see the entire suit.

"And you're Darth Vader!" he returns, jumping up and down up excitement. He grabs onto her gloved hands. "Put on the mask! Put on the mask! C'mon. Please? Please? Please?"

She giggles. "You don't have to ask that many times, Percy," she says, and he pouts. His sad demeanor is replaced with a grin when she puts the elastic band of the mask around her head.

He lets out a whoop, which then he tries to turn into a Chewbacca roar, but he just ends up squeaking. She laughs so hard it hurts.

"I think it's time for pictures!" Sally suggests, waving around her camera. Percy throws an arm around Annabeth, tugging her close with a wide smile. She pushes up her mask, Sally sets Tyson in front of them, and she takes the picture. They're all laughing and smiling.

"Aw, so cute," Sally says, pinching Annabeth and Percy's cheeks.

"I'm not cute," he insists. He puffs out his chest. "I'm manly!"

She chuckles. "Sure you are." Patting their heads one last time, she pulls away. "Now who's ready to go Trick-or-Treating?"

"Yeah!" They throw their hands up in the air and squeal with excitement. On Sally's orders, they run out the door, proceeding to Trick-or-Treat.

Annabeth and Percy get a lot of candy because pair costumes are always cute. A lot of the people that open the doors remark on how adorable they are as a pair. Tyson gets quite a bit of candy, too, for both the facts that he's a toddler, and his kitty costume matches the theme of his mom's witch outfit.

After they run down the steps of one house, Annabeth and Percy make a straight beeline for the next. She stops in her tracks when she sees the decorations, tugging on Percy's sleeve.

"Percy," she whimpers in a small voice, "I-I don't think I can do this."

The red eyes of dozens of spider figures stare back at her. Webs cover the house, and the mist from the neighbor's fog machine gives off an unnecessary eerie look to it all. A giant spider sits menacingly above the doorway on the roof, glaring at any kids that walk the sidewalk.

Percy's eyes fill with sympathy–he's experienced first-hand her arachnophobia–but then they flare with determination. "Of course you can do it, Darth Vader," he insists.

Her knees feel like jelly. "No, I can't," she says. "And my name's Annabeth, _not_ Darth Vader."

"Yes it is!" he says. "At least for tonight. And Darth Vader–you–ain't scared of no spider."

"But–"

"You can face an army of–of mutant-ninja rebel fighters _alone_ without breaking a sweat!" he continues. "You can go up to this house! You're the Dark Lord, Ann–I mean, Darth Vader."

She puffs out her chest as determination fills her. "I _am_ the Dark Lord," she states.

"Yes you are. And you can do this."

Giving an affirming nod, she pulls her mask down to cover her face. "We can do this. I'm gonna do this!"

"C'mon, then." He leads her slowly, strongly, onto the lawn of the house with all the spiders. Panic fills her as they get closer, telling her run, but she just fumbles for Percy's hand.

They make it to the door, Annabeth's legs quaking in fear. She cowers behind Percy a bit, but she tells herself she can do this. She's not Annabeth Chase anymore. She's Darth Vader, and Darth Vader isn't scared of any stupid spider.

"Trick-or-treat!" Percy says, and she echoes weakly.

A lady opens the door, smiles at them, and gives them candy, telling them to have a good night. They walk back to Sally (who had run into a friend) slowly.

Once they get there, he lets out a roar of happiness and hugs the life out of her. "You did it! You faced your fears!" he cheers.

She smiles into his shoulder, her own giddiness taking over. "I did. I really did." She pauses.

"But I'm never gonna do it again."

;

 **III.**

A potential divorce between her parents is not something that a ten-year-old should be worried about.

But Annabeth is.

Her parents are barely ever home, and when they are, they barely ever stop fighting. Breakfast is awkward and dinner is a mess.

Everyone wakes up at the same time, so they eat at the same time, which can lead to some pretty horrifying stalemates between her parents. They don't yell in front of her because they think their fights are secret. At dinner, they used to hold the value that this meal should always be eaten together. Her mom has a shift over this hour on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and her dad has it on Tuesdays, Fridays, and the entire weekend. Annabeth eats with one or the other every night.

She should be worried about cooties and boys, school and birthday parties. But no.

They get into a really heated argument when Annabeth is trying to study one night. She tries to tune them out, but she can clearly hear their enraged voices from downstairs.

It finally gets to the point where, with tears in her eyes, she furiously tugs on her shoes and slams open her door, sprinting downstairs. "I'm going to Percy's until you two sort this out!" she yells over her shoulder as she exits the front door.

"Annabeth, wait," her father tries, but she's already closed the door.

"Look what you've done!" her mother shouts. "You scared our daughter away!"

" _I_ scared her?! What about _you_?!"

And so on and so forth. She can hear them arguing about who scared her away instead of them going after her.

Wiping tears away from her eyes, she speeds up and heads straight for the house at the corner of the street. She knocks frantically on the door.

Sally opens it. "Oh, my poor dear," she murmurs, sympathy clearly laced through her voice because she knows the expression on her face. It's the expression she wears when her parents fighting gets so bad she leaves for the Jackson's house.

"I'm so sorry," she states, crouching down and pulling Annabeth into a motherly hug. She sobs into her shoulder because she can't remember the last time her own mom hugged her like this. Sally runs a hand up and down her back. "It's getting more frequent, isn't it, dear? I'm so sorry."

"Mommy?" Annabeth spots Tyson over Sally's shoulder, his thumb in his mouth and worry written all over his face. He walks over, tugging on the side of Annabeth's shirt. "Anna-bet, why are you so sad?" She tries to respond, but all that comes out is a dry sob. "Mommy, why is Anna-bet so sad?"

"Because, dear," Sally explains slowly, "her mommy and daddy aren't getting along right now."

Tyson's big brown eyes widen. "Like how Percy and the bully at his school don't get along?"

She nods sadly. "Exactly like that, dear."

He takes in this information, and then his bottom lip wobbles and tears well up in his eyes. He flings himself into his mother's arms, and suddenly he's crying. "Y-you and Dad-Daddy aren't gonna do t-that are you?"

"No, sweetheart. Your daddy and I get along wonderfully."

The statement makes Annabeth want to cry, since right now all she's doing is dry-sobbing.

"How about you go find Percy, Annabeth?" Sally suggests, sensing her sadness over her last sentence. "He's in his room."

Without another word, Annabeth goes straight for his room. She opens the door, not meaning to slam it, but it does anyway.

"Yes, Mo–" The words die in his throat when he sees her, because–just like Sally–he knows the expression, too.

"Annabeth," he says right before he runs over to her and wraps her in a big bear hug. She finally lets herself cry.

She sobs into his hair (she's still _way_ taller than him, and it'd hurt her neck to try to bury her face in his shoulder, so...the top of his head), getting the black strands wet with her tears. Her legs shake, not knowing if she can keep standing, and then he lowers her down to the ground.

"Shh, shh, Annabeth," he whispers soothingly, rubbing her back and shoulders. She's quickly out of tears, and then she's hiccupping, trying to calm herself down. "You…You're gonna be fine, okay? I don't know if your parents will be okay, but you're gonna be fine, because your impossibly strong and you've got friends. I'm not _ever_ gonna let you face this alone, okay? You're gonna be fine."

He continues whispering reassurances her until she calms down. When she finally does, her throat feels raw and dry, and her eyes itch.

"You good?" he asks. She nods into his hair. "You wanna talk about it?" She shakes her head. "Okay. That's fine."

They sit in silence for a moment. "Do you wanna watch _Star Wars_?" he asks. She nods, because those movies always make her feel better. "Okay."

Percy helps her get up, and they move slowly into the living room. He lays out blankets and pillows for her to plop down on. She gladly takes it. He puts the disc in the DVD player, and then he joins her on the floor.

The movie starts, and they curl up on the floor, her head rested on his stomach and his head laid on a pillow. His thumb repeatedly brushes slowly on her shoulder, wrinkling the shirt.

"You're gonna be fine," he murmurs to her, and she believes it.

;

A couple months later, after she turns eleven, her mom leaves for good.

Her dad's a wreck. She's fine.

As long as she's got her best friend, she's fine.

;

 **IV.**

"You're finally catching up to me," Annabeth remarks when Percy opens the door for her. "I mean, I've been thirteen for more than a month now. It's not cool to hang out with a tweenager."

He sticks his tongue out at her, taking her bags all the same.

A blue cake sits on the kitchen counter. _Happy Birthday_ decorations hang across the walls, and presents are placed on the table, soon joined by Annabeth's.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, and then gains a grin. "But I'm so cool, that it doesn't matter if I'm twelve. You'd lose some serious street cred for not hanging out with _me_."

Annabeth scoffs, hitting his arm. "Oh please, Seaweed Brain. _You're_ the one who'd lose street cred. Having a teenager as a best friend? That's about as cool as you can get."

"But _I'm_ a teenager."

"Not until tomorrow, you're not."

He pouts, but then she leans over (and down) and presses a kiss against his cheek, whispering, "Happy birthday, Percy." And then he smiles so widely that her lips almost brush against his mouth. She quickly pulls away.

"Shoulda known it was Annabeth," she hears Charles Beckendorf say. "He always takes longest with Annabeth."

"C'mon, lovebirds!" Travis Stoll crows. "We still gotta get this party started!"

Annabeth turns to glare at the group of boys at the whole _lovebird_ comment. Travis stands in between his younger brother, Connor, and Jason Grace. Beckendorf leans against the wall, and…that's it. Annabeth is the only girl at the party.

Percy sputters, bright red. She's pretty sure she has a blush on her face, too, but she continues glaring. "Shut up," she growls.

Everyone immediately snaps their mouths shut, because Annabeth has made it _very_ clear that she can beat them _all_ up, including fifteen-year-old Beckendorf.

They all move to the living room. _Star Wars_ is already on the TV. Everyone gathers on the couch, except for Percy and Annabeth, who are used to sharing the big recliner. They've been doing it since they were five. It's kind of a habit.

No one dodges the chance to tease them, though, even if all of them have seen them in this position a thousand times before. Annabeth lays vertically on the reclined chair, while Percy's head rests on her stomach, his legs dangling over the armrest that faces the TV.

All the other boys prod and mock-coo. Jason makes a remark about them being a couple, and then Annabeth snaps something about him and Piper McLean, and then he shuts up. Percy, Beckendorf, Travis, and Connor can't stop laughing for a long time after that.

The boys fall asleep around midnight, and it leaves Annabeth and Percy, because _Return of the Jedi_ is on, and, being die-hard Star War fans, they wouldn't miss it for the world. Even _if_ they've watched all the movies a hundred times over.

While watching Luke and Leia flirt it up (ew, by the way), Percy asks a question. "Hey, Annabeth…Do you know anything about girls?"

" _No_ , Percy. I know nothing about girls. Doesn't matter that I _am_ a girl, and I have a _ton_ of friends who are girls–"

"Shut up!" Percy complains. Annabeth can't see the blush on his face in the dim lighting. "I mean…Do you know…You know what? Just forget it."

"What, Seaweed Brain?" She nudges his head. "You got eyes for someone?"

"Just for yo–I mean, I-I said just forget it!"

She shrugs and doesn't pry. She's tired, and she can't even remember the conversation the following day.

;

 **V.**

Going to the hospital to wait for news about the mother who left when you were eleven is not usually how fifteen-year-olds spend their Friday nights.

But that's how Annabeth is spending it.

She sits in the bright yellow waiting room of the hospital, her knees hugged close to her chest as she tries to decide what emotion she's feeling right now–sadness, or anger?

Her father's not here to help her decide, not even here to sit by her. He had been, for a little bit, but then the office called him away.

So, she sits alone, not being able to take herself home, because she doesn't have a car nor driver's license, and not being able to visit her mother, because she's not a legal adult.

Time ticks away. The nurses get her to drink water, and, when the clock strikes nine, one of them places a blanket around her shoulders with a sympathetic look.

A car accident. Her mom got in a car accident involving a drunk driver. The worst part about it is that _she_ was the drunk driver. That's where Annabeth's anger comes from. How could her mom be so irresponsible? She could have taken a mother from her child like _she_ did all those years ago. Except the catch would be that the mother wouldn't've had a choice, while _she_ left on her own.

No one will tell Annabeth what exactly happened, or how the people besides her mom were affected in the car accident. That's where the sadness comes from. If someone died, her mother could go to jail. She's already not talked to her in four years; Annabeth doesn't want to have their first conversation in a while to be through glass.

"Annabeth!"

The voice snaps her from her haze. She sees Percy right next to the door of the hospital, looking around frantically. When he spots her, he's at her side in a moment.

"Oh gods, Annabeth!" He's kneeling in front of her, cupping her hands between his slightly larger ones, looking like his mom is the one in the hospital. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, her words short and choppy. Sally, a sleepy ten-year-old Tyson, and his and Percy's dad Poseidon walk in. The female Jackson gives her an encouraging smile. "Fine."

"Oh, Annabeth." Percy clambers onto the two-person bench (her dad had sat with her until he left), wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her into his chest. Her cheek presses against his shoulder. He's catching up in height, and, though she's still a couple inches taller, it doesn't hurt her neck anymore.

He rubs up and down her back. "Your mother will be fine, okay? _You'll_ be fine, sweetheart."

The term of endearment sends a jolt up her spine. She's been crushing on Percy for a while now–probably longer then she thinks. It took a while for her to figure out what was causing her heart to beat faster, her hands to get sweaty, her tongue to tie whenever her best friend was around, having no mom to talk boys with and all.

That thought gives another flare of agitation to her mind. Not to Percy–never to Percy–but to her mother.

"I already _said_ I was fine," she mumbles. The blanket on her shoulders falls, catching on his hand.

"Right. Of course," he says, and she has a feeling that he doesn't believe her. He leans down to place a tender kiss upon her head that sends blood rushing to her cheeks and her toes curling. "You can talk to me. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"You know you can cry, right?"

She stays silent.

He clears his throat after a minute or two. "How about let's watch a movie, yeah?"

Nodding her 'sure', she squirms until she's sitting comfortably on his lap, his chin on her head. He takes out his phone, a nice Samsung Galaxy. He taps his _Videos_ app.

"Star Wars always makes you feel better," he mutters, almost to himself, and presses on the movie.

"Hey." His breath fans out over her ear, causing her to shiver ever so slightly. "You know…" He gulps. "You know that I love you, right?"

The words erase all intelligent thought from her head. Her father hasn't said _I love you_ in years; just as many for her mother.

She cranes her neck and twists her spine to kiss him. On the lips. She _completely_ whites out, because, well…It's Percy, and _good gods she loves him too but in an entirely non-platonic kind of way._

He pushes his head forward, and she knows absolutely _nothing_ about kissing, so she thinks that he's trying to get her off. She pulls back immediately, bright red.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly. He doesn't love her _that way_. Oh gods, what if he hates her now? What if she just ruined their friendship?

He starts, "I'm no–"

"I mean, I was just overcome with what's happening with my mom and my dad and I completely lost my head there and I invaded your personal space and I stole your first kiss and I…I'm sorry," she finishes lamely, looking everywhere but him. "It was a mistake."

"I…Let's just finish the movie, yeah?" he suggests.

"Yes. Yes of course."

If she had been looking, she would have seen the way his face twisted with gloom. The way his eyes became sad. The way his jaw clenched and he took a deep, shuttering breath.

Of course, she wasn't looking, so she didn't notice.

;

A couple hours later, her dad comes back, and they tell him that her mom will be perfectly fine. No charges will be pressed, because all the other people involved in the accident are fine, too.

She and Percy are fine after that. Everything's just how it used to be.

They never mention the kiss.

;

 **VI.**

At the age of eighteen, one should be looking for colleges to get into, or already be in one.

For once in her life, Annabeth actually is doing what she's supposed to at her age.

But she has a feeling of remorse, looking at Percy's grin. He's waiting for her to tell him her choice. To tell him that she choose Yale. To tell him that they'll be able to see each other every week, because he's going to the University of Connecticut to stay close to his family and, hopefully, her.

"Oxford," she whispers, and his face falls. "I'm going to Oxford."

He tries to regain his happy spirit. "Well that's–that's great, Annabeth. Really. We still have Skype, and, anyway, there's a little bit of time before–"

"And I'm leaving tomorrow," she blurts, shutting her eyes and looking down. He makes a pained noise at the back of his throat that he tries to cover up with a cough. "I know, Percy, I know. But there's this whole nationality thing, and I just–They told me they'd close my scholarship offer if I didn't accept it and jump on a plane by the end of the week."

"It's okay," he whispers. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into a hug, setting his chin on her shoulder. (He finally grew taller than her last year. He's 6' 3", but she's a solid 6' 0", so there isn't enough height difference for him to set his head atop of hers.) "It's fine. I get it. But it's just…so _sudden_. Can't you board a plane two days from now?"

"Percy, its Wednesday. I don't want to have to cut it even closer than this."

"Okay." He voice is small and watery. He buries his face into the skin of her collarbone, moving her shirt down her shoulder slightly to get access to more of her flesh. "Okay. We're gonna be fine."

Wetness meets her skin, but she doesn't say anything about it. She just tightens the arm that's around him and threads her other hand through his hair, massaging the back of his head, trying not to cry herself.

"You know what?" she whispers into his ear. "They tried to get me to board the first flight to England, but I said I need one last night with my best friend."

"Really?" He looks at her, his eyes hopeful like they're five again, and she's giving him her blue Jolly Rancher.

She nods. "Really."

"Then let's make it count!" he announces, and he holds out his hand to her. She accepts.

They run around his house, playing games and just having fun. They build pillow forts and have races. Percy even digs out the old toy lightsabers they used to play with back in kindergarten. (Teacher, seeing how much they loved them, gave the toys to the pair.) They don't glow anymore, but its fun sword-playing with something that's too little for you.

They end up laughing on their chair, Annabeth, now the shorter one, being the one stretched out across Percy. She's too tall to rest her head on his stomach, having her back and shoulders there instead and her head on the armrest, her legs still hanging off the other end.

 _Star Wars The Clone Wars_ plays in the background (probably left on by Tyson) as they try to calm down from their giggle fit.

Then, Percy stops, a tender look on his face, and her breath hitches when he drags his warm thumb over her cheekbone, letting his pointer finger twirl one of her curls.

"Annabeth?" he whispers quietly, so quietly.

"Y-yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yeah."

He leans down, cupping her cheek while one of her hands threads in his hair. He hesitates a hair away from her lips, their breath mingling. Annabeth gets tired of waiting, and pulls him down.

The kiss is slow and warm and tender; testing. It makes her toes curl and her heart swell.

She pulls away, their foreheads pressed together, long enough to get air and sit up in his lap. He kisses her, his other hand going to her waist, and…

…Everything's not _fine_.

It's _perfect_.

;

They make the whole long-distance relationship thing work.

He texts her constantly, always adding _I love you_ at the end of all his messages. (She asked him why once, and he said that 1. he needs to get all those unspoken I love yous out and 2. combining the two saves on his phone bill.) They Skype every single night, annoying the crap out of their roommates.

;

She's walking down the street when his text tone sounds from her bag.

It's raining (it seems to do that a lot in England), and she doesn't want to get her phone wet, so she ducks into the nearest coffee shop to check it out.

Darth Vader points up at her, the words _May the 4_ _th_ _be with you_ splayed below him. She jerks, suddenly reminded of the date.

How could she forget?

Percy texts her again; just a little something that warms her to the bone.

 _Happy best-friend-first-meeting-aversary, Wise Girl. :)_

 **AN: So? You guys like?**

 **This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you find any spelling or grammatical errors, please inform me about them so that I can fix them. Thank you.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson, Star Wars, or any other kind of product I might have mentioned. The title for this story was taken from Echosmith's Bright.**

 **To all those people the read my other story: Yes, I am still writing that. I've just had a lot of time-consuming family stuff going on right now, and it hasn't left me a lot of time to write. I'm actually shocked that I got _this_ out today, and I started this, like, a week ago.**

 **Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews really do mean a lot to me!**


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